


Rather a hundred hells with you, than a heaven without

by dancingsynapses



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Dark, F/M, Guns, Miscarriage, Revenge, Sex, Suicide Attempt, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22859572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingsynapses/pseuds/dancingsynapses
Summary: When Rio comes back, Elizabeth is ready, with one last story to tell, to the only person she wants to tell it to.-Please read the tags, there's detailed descriptions of a miscarriage and a suicide attempt should these be triggers for anyone.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 13
Kudos: 205





	Rather a hundred hells with you, than a heaven without

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes certain scenarios fill my head and I can't shake them. I've always had a penchant for soft fluffy fics, but my mind has been in a dark place and the talk about Beth being pregnant in S3 set this off.
> 
> What if she was pregnant but couldn't keep it even though she tried?

She knew this day would come.

When she first saw news about Turner being gunned down during an FBI operation to take down local gangs in Detroit, she'd been relieved. Despite knowing that a man's life had been taken, that somewhere out there, a family mourned his death, the most instinctive reaction she'd had was relief. Like somewhere inside her, a bound had been let go. That the noose around her neck had not only been loosened, but let go of completely.

Elizabeth was a picture of calm the first few hours after the girls had come over to secretly clink their glasses over the news. They hadn't outrightly called it a celebration of course, but when Beth had called them over, a bottle of good bourbon and a few more wines set on the table, there was no reason to think otherwise. Initially, Ruby was torn between feeling guilt of actually celebrating over someone's death, afterall, they were meant to be good people right? But after a few glasses of wine and Annie's repeated reminders that "Dude was the reason Stan had to go to prison", she'd relaxed and for the first time, they felt as if they were free. Rio was gone and now, so was Agent Turner. They'd literally have no one on their backs - a perfect start to get back into the business of printing fake cash.

Then it crept on her. Yes, Turner was gone. But who had taken him down? Her mind wandered to Rio, his associates, Bullet, Demon, Mr Cisco. Could they have done it? It couldn't have been him. She killed him right? She shook her head to chase her thoughts away, a dead man can't kill. It had to be someone else. Yet in the depths of her gut, she thought otherwise.

She'd gone to the park like every other day, sitting on the bench with Rhea as they watched Marcus and Jane tear through the jungle gym like they owned it. _King and Queen of the playground_ , Beth had thought to herself, before ripping those words out of her mind burying them deep in the depths of her memories someplace.

"He looks happier..." Beth had noticed the change in Marcus' demeanour that afternoon, the light perfectly framing that gap toothed grin that was most definitely wider than they had been the last few weeks.

"Yeah, his daddy's back."

Beth froze, her blood running cold in her veins. She could feel the colour draining from her face and tried to mask the shake in her hands by pushing a strand of her hair out of her face.

"Oh. Is that right?" She'd managed to choke out, before pretending to busy herself by grabbing juice boxes and snacks out from her bag. Rhea went on about how he'd done this before, disappearing for weeks before popping right back as if nothing had happened. Droning on about how she worried this would affect Marcus' mental wellbeing. Nothing registered.

He was back. Back from the dead like the ghouls only mentioned in horror stories.

He was back and he was coming for her. That, she was certain.

-

The days that followed were hell. She couldn't decide if she was more afraid or happy. She never wanted to kill him. The shots she fired were instinctive and reactive. Driven by nothing except a pure need for survival. After she'd left him, she'd wanted nothing more than to take back everything. To have him alive in front of her, even if it meant he'd torture her for eternity. She'd thought of the things she'd sacrifice so she could have him back again.

Elizabeth had put the plans to restart their business back on hold. Ruby and Annie confused, but compliant and agreeable. She'd convinced Dean to take her children on a camping trip at his family cabin with his parents, bringing up excuses of having to cover multiple shifts at Paper Porcupine so she wouldn't have to join them.

She'd emptied her house, rid it of any innocent victims, preparing for his arrival. She'd cleaned, sorted out her life with some sort of resoluteness. Written notes of her children's preferences, their commitments on neat little post its, placed inside her craft cupboard for someone to find when they realised she was gone.

Then, she waited. Every night, with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. An offering for a God she knew was coming to claim her.

And come he did.

-

The soft click of her back door closing was the only thing that alerted her to his presence. And she'd welcomed it. She straightened her back and stared straight ahead, even though she wanted nothing more than to look at him. To make sure he was real, that he was here. That her bullets had done damage, but he'd recovered. Better than before. At least one of them came out alive from the shooting.

The next thing she felt was the cool press of metal against her temple. The familiar scent of him washing over her now that he was standing closer. No words. He hadn't said a single thing. Then again, she didn't deserve that intimacy. The snarky remarks or singsong manner he'd said "Honey, I'm home." the last time he'd held out a gun to Dean's head. Turner didn't even warrant a personal visit. At least he'd came and didn't just send one of his boys to finish the job.

She slid the sonogram across the table silently, her fingers shaking as she did. One last story to close their chapter. One last piece of honesty. He deserved that. Elizabeth felt the gun pressed against her head shift a little, but it stayed in place. The scald of cool metal against her burning skin, threatening to end life as she knew it with the squeeze of a trigger. The silence that followed was deafening. She heard her own heartbeat in her ears, could feel the throb in her head, a choking feeling in her chest that she couldn't will away no matter how hard she tried.

He was the one to speak first.

"You think a picture's gonna save you?"

Rio spat the words out in contempt and anger. His voice so comforting in her ears even though they were laced with venom. He'd seen one of these before, the day Rhea had returned from her doctor's appointment after finding out the gender. It'd been placed in an envelope and dropped off in his letterbox. He still remembered the feeling that bloomed in his chest when he saw the first photo of Marcus, the word "boy" scribbled underneath it in black sharpie. He would never admit it to anyone, but he'd started wondering about his son since then. Scenarios that would appear in his mind long before Marcus was born, a miniature version of himself kicking a soccer ball, ice cream outings at that diner which served them in waffle bowl cones.

Elizabeth wasn't pregnant. At least she wasn't anymore. So this picture she was showing him? It filled his heart with nothing but anger and disgust. If this baby was his, and she'd gotten rid of it, then he'd have even more reason to kill her. The nerve of her to pull this out and use it as a trump card against him. His fingers twitched and the urge to pull the trigger, to tie up this loose end, was stronger than ever. Yet somehow he didn't. Perhaps death was too easy a way out for a woman like her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save the last thing you gave me...I tried. I did. I just wanted to apologize before..."

Her voice broke into choked sobs before she could finish her sentence, her hands instinctively lowered to cradle her stomach, now empty and bare. Her body shook with the violence of her sobs, the apologies tumbling from her mouth even though she knew they were worth nothing of value to him. She'd killed him, then weeks later, lost the only thing he'd left her with.

Rio lowered his gun slightly, his mind still reeling from her confession, her apology. His eyes glued to the black and white picture sitting on her kitchen table. For someone whose mind moved at a mile a minute, his was blank in this moment. Trying to piece the pieces together to form a completely story, he felt as though he was grasping at air, no matter how hard he tried, every fistful he reached out for turned up empty.

Removing the gun from her temple, he placed it on the kitchen table, the barrel still pointed towards her. His goal hadn't changed. He still wanted her dead. But it didn't mean he couldn't get the full story out of her before he did it. After all, it would be easier to do so now, than try to pry it out of her cold dead hands.

"Talk."

Elizabeth tried. But she didn't know where to begin. How would she even explain that after she'd put three bullets into his chest and watched as he drowned in his own blood and spit, she'd spiralled from the guilt of it all, too broken to even head home and keep up the pretense of being a dutiful wife and mother. How could she tell the father of her lost child that she'd spent the weeks after killing him, curled up in a dingy motel room hiding from the nightmare that had swallowed her entire life whole, then spit her out with nothing left but darkness and chaos.

-

_She'd done nothing more than text Ruby and Annie that something bad had happened and that she'd needed to lay low for awhile. They'd told Dean to take care of the children while she disappeared off the radar. And she'd trusted them to keep everything together while she fell apart alone._

_She hadn't even known she was pregnant then. Not until she stood in the bathroom that evening and saw the blood dripping down her thighs and a sharp pain that twisted in her belly. A deserving end for her, she'd thought back then. The universe had caught wind of what she'd done and now they'd come to collect. She'd slid down onto the floor of the bathroom, her breaths now coming out as shallow pants before it hit her._

_The moment she realised what was happening, she had dialed for an ambulance, every fibre of her being committed to saving the little bit she had left of him in her life. She sent out a silent prayer to the universe even though she knew she deserved nothing. "Please", she had begged, while she watched the blood paint the white tiles crimson._

-

"I didn't lose it then." Her voice trembled with the effort of her recount. Each time she thought she couldn't carry on anymore, the words ached to be heard. They spilled from her tongue the same way her memories did.

-

_Elizabeth had awoken to the sound of machines beeping and the faint familiar voices of Ruby and Annie. Turns out, she'd had the foresight of letting the hospital know to call her sister instead of Dean before she passed out. Almost instinctively, her hand went to her stomach, a sense of dread and panic rising to her chest as she scrambled around for answers, as if clawing at the sheets beneath her would give her any inkling of whether the child she didn't know she had was safe, alive._

_Ruby had placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, insisted she lay back, smoothing her hair the same way she did when Sara had awoken in the hospital. "The baby...?" Her voice was hoarse, she barely recognized it. Elizabeth hadn't even had any confirmation she was pregnant, but somehow, she'd known. The sharp nauseating pain in her uterus almost unmistakable after having four children of her own._

_"Honey...the baby...the doctor's managed to save it, but it's not in good shape. You're not in good shape."_

_For the first time, Annie was quiet. Her eyes wide and unblinking, her lips caught between her teeth, her arms wrapped around her torso tightly. She looked worried. It was a look foreign to Elizabeth. Sure, Annie had been worried when Greg wanted to take Sadie from her. Worried when they had to dispose of a dead body way back when. Worried about money, worried about Boomer recognizing her in the robbery at Fine and Frugal. But worried for her? That was something new. All her life, Elizabeth had taken care of Annie. She worried about Annie. Not the other way round. But the way Annie was looking at her right now? It made her feel small, shattered. As if the roles had reversed and Annie was the big sister now. Making her the younger, disappointing, unreliable one._

_Ruby's voice filled the empty spaces in the hospital room, but did nothing to ease the suffocation she felt. Lowering her eyes to her hands clasped on her stomach, she tried to blink away the unshed tears, only to have them traitorously fall._

-

"I didn't leave the hospital for 2 weeks. I did everything. I didn't leave the bed. I thought for one moment, that if I was good and did what I was told. I would be able to protect this." A look of affection washed over her face as she ran her fingers tenderly over the sonogram.

"But in the end, it didn't matter. I didn't deserve this. This one good thing that I had left."

-

_Elizabeth hadn't gone home in slightly over a month. She had called her children almost every night, saying goodnight, giving air kisses over the phone, explaining how she'd gone away for work and would be back very soon. Every day, she'd tried to keep her children at home happy, while at the same time, tried to keep the one inside her alive._

_At the 13 week mark of her pregnancy, she'd awoken in the middle of the night, the same twisting pain in her insides had returned, except that this time it was worse. It felt like someone had attached a hook to her insides and was trying to pull it out from between her legs. She'd screamed. Not from the pain, but from the devastation of knowing that she was going to lose this baby no matter how hard she'd tried. Her legs were covered in warm sticky blood, the evidence of betrayal from her body, her failure of keeping this child alive. When the nurses arrived in the room, she'd been delirious from the pain and the guilt. Her pupils blown wide, her hair matted to her forehead, hands gripping at her abdomen, as if she'd be able to keep everything inside if she just tried._

_Annie and Ruby had come as soon as they got the call, muttering hushed words of comfort by her side, their hands never leaving hers as she stared at the empty white ceiling of her hospital room. Empty, useless, bare, just like she was right now._

-

"I ordered for a full post-mortem even though they said he was too small. But I wanted records, I wanted proof that he existed beyond the ache in my belly that I wished would never go away. I wanted to remember him. Remember you." It was the first time she'd said this to anyone. She hadn't even spoken about this to the girls.

"He was a boy."

That's when Rio broke. He lowered himself to the stool next to her. His hands shaking the slightest as he clasped them atop the kitchen counter. Had he ever imagined what a child of his and Elizabeth's would have looked like? Only once. That one time he'd walked into her home and her children were surrounding her as if she was the best thing to happen in their lives. Her hair curled around her face, her eyes so blue and sparkling with excitement and life. He'd imagined it then, a tiny little thing with his dark hair, but her bright blue eyes and chubby cheeks.

To think it had almost become a reality, a one time fantasy brought to life, nestled in her womb. Yet now ripped from his life. He wondered how it was possible to hurt from the loss of something he never even knew he had. But it hurt. It burned from the chest up, threatening to consume him whole. He wanted to look at the picture. At her. But he knew if he so much as looked, he'd never be able to walk away.

"I'm sorry I befriended Rhea. I'm sorry I put myself in Marcus' life. I wanted to be there for them. For him. I wanted to give him the love I took away, even though it would never be enough."

The thought of Marcus hurt her, but somehow also healed her. Every time she saw his face, she thought of him. Both of them. Would their child have had the same wavy brown hair? The same gapped tooth grin? The same caramel skin? Would it feel the same way when she hugged him?

She was poisoned by those questions, never able to walk away.

-

"I'm ready now."

She said with finality. The sobbing had stop somewhere through her recount, where she'd felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, her story heard by the one person she wanted to tell it to.

He didn't move. Just sat there, the sonogram held between his fingers. His face gave nothing away and Elizabeth took the opportunity to look at him. He'd lost weight. His cheekbones even more pronounced than before. She remembered the first time he'd walked into her kitchen, and even then, with the threat of death looming above her head, she'd found him devastatingly handsome. She ran her eyes over his face, committing each feature to memory. The way his eyes would narrow when he laughed at something _suburban-y_ she said. The way his jaw would clench when he was annoyed, the way it'd relax and open up into a wide smile when they came up with a brilliant idea to flip the game.

She wanted to remember him. The long leonine lines of his body, the tattoo on his neck, the exact shade of his skin, the feeling of his touch. The way he had given her a chance when she didn't deserve it. The way he had been cruel, calculated, but at the same time generous and kind. He'd forced the gun into her hand, but it was her who pulled the trigger. He didn't deserve this, he deserved more.

So when he didn't move to pick up the gun, she did. The weight of it in her hands felt familiar, the memory of it distant, but the action still etched into the memory of her muscles.

_"A full clip adds a pound."_

She wanted to laugh, even though it'd seem inappropriate for this final moment. Pulling the gun up to her temple, she let out a deep breath before he jerked his chin up sharply to meet her eyes. His body surged towards hers, then stopped midway, as if the thought of touching her scorched him.

"Elizabeth..."

There it was. Her name, rolling off his tongue like where it belonged there. She knew he wouldn't be able to do it, even though a part of him still wanted to. Tie up loose ends, to put an end to the woman who had betrayed him so many times she wasn't even sure how she made it this long. But she didn't want her blood on his hands. She'd wronged him, almost taken him away from his son, then taken their son away from him.

_"What is someone like you doin' wit' someone like me?"_

He asked her that a lifetime ago, at that time, she'd felt as if she'd been the one that had been wronged. That he was the one bad thing in her life she needed to remove. But now? She knew she was the one that wormed her way into his life, messed everything up. She was destructive, manipulative and then when push came to shove, she was ruthless, callous and murderous. Three bullets in his chest had proven that.

And now she could make things right.

He looked at her now, her hair was longer than he remembered.

_"Don't cut it yeah? I like pushing it out of your face."_

She looked beautiful, despite the purples under the eyes that she'd tried to conceal with too much make up. Her lips plump, her skin still flawlessly alabaster. There was a time where things weren't so loaded between them, where he didn't look at her with hatred and longing and god knows what else in his system. The gun against her temple didn't fit this picture he had. Especially not with her holding it.

"Elizabeth, put the god damned gun down." He all but growled, trying to keep his voice neutral, trying not to spook her.

She shook her head, her curls bouncing slightly with each movement. The gun pressed deeper into her skin, her fingers ghosting over the trigger. The tears were falling from her eyes again, her breathing shaky. He always read her well, and he still did. The regret spilling from her face clear as day, as if the apologies that had tumbled from her lips the moment he arrived weren't enough.

It wasn't supposed to end this way. He'd pointed a gun at her head, yes. But the decision was still his to make. A gun against the temple was nothing if you didn't pull the trigger. But now that her fingers curled around it, he was frightened.

"ELIZABETH! Look at me!" He raised his voice slightly, and she jumped in her seat, her finger squeezing slightly. His heart lurched with her. He could feel it beating in his ears, the adrenaline flooding his senses.

Her thumb reached to unlatch the safety at the side, and Rio sucked in a breath. He had to do something, anything. He'd wanted her dead an hour prior, but now he couldn't fathom it. Slowly, he rose from his seat, moving towards her. As if any quick action would set her off.

"I'm sorry." She said before closing her eyes, the resignation seeping from her tears, the apologies she could never complete, the sins she couldn't spend a lifetime atoning. He clocked the resoluteness in her face before she even felt it, then he saw her finger curl around the trigger in slow motion as she squeezed it.

His feet sprang into action, every muscle in his body pushed into overdrive as he lurched for her.

The sound of the gun going off deafened him as his heart burst in his chest.

When he collided with her and they both crashed into the ground, he could feel the impact of the hard ground that knocked the air out of the both of them.

He reached for her hands, before knocking the gun out from her grip, shoving it far from them. Her eyes were closed, but he could feel the rise and fall from her chest and the choked sobs that were reverberating from her.

"Are you OK!"

His voice sounded foreign to him. Thick with concern and panic that he didn't have the mind to hide. When she didn't answer, he asked again, this time with more urgency and fear.

She nodded as he pulled her up from her floor, his arms wrapped around her so tightly he thought she'd have cracked a few bones. He looked around to access the damage. The stools had fallen to the floor during his tackle, the bullet shattering the plaster in the ceiling. He considered it a win, seeing how it could have been her brains splattered across the room right now.

He breathed in her sent, the flurry of red hair the only thing he saw as he held on to her. She sat there, unmoving in his embrace, her hands limply by her side. He started rocking her, the same way he did when he was trying to calm Marcus during a meltdown. The sound of her crying and his harsh breathing filled his ears, the only thought in his mind was how close he came to losing her.

He pulled away from her a moment later, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of injury, afraid that he'd been a little too late and the bullet hadn't killed her but had grazed her. He ran his fingers cross her forehead, then her temple, her cheeks and her jaw. His motions slow, tender, but his hands still shaking.

She opened her eyes, blue orbs staring right into his own. An apology tethering at the edge of her teeth. During his recovery, he'd fantasised about the different ways he'd get her to pay penance before he finally ended her. He relished the millions of ways he'd get her to apologize, the different things he'd make her do to show her regret. Yet now, after merely an hour of meeting her, he'd tired of the guilty looks and the continued apologies.

"Don't do that ever again." In that moment, he realised he didn't care about their past, the betrayals, the mistakes and the misdeeds. He didn't care about the bullets she put in him, the three scars still lingering on his skin. He didn't care about money, nor revenge. He didn't care about pretty much anything if he didn't get to hold her like this anymore.

It took her a moment, but slowly, she lifted her arms to wrap them around him. Slow, uncertain movement that made his heart ache with longing and want. She'd been broken, and so had he. In so many more ways than one, they'd broken each other. And maybe they'd never be fixed again, the ghost of their past haunting each other over and over again because there was nothing else they knew better than hurt. But Rio knew that he'd rather live through eternal hell with her, than a dozen years in heaven without.

He leaned towards her tentatively, capturing her lips in a kiss. So soft, so gentle. Her taste on his lips was like a leap back into the past, and he longed to lose himself in her again. She kissed him back. An olive branch extended from both sides. Nothing had changed, but everything had. She knew he hadn't forgiven her for trying to end his life, but yet had graciously saved her from taking her own.

Nothing was ever clear between them. Even when they tried to calculate and give meaning to their every interaction, the ones that spoke the loudest were the ones they'd done out of instinct. Her shooting him, him saving her. She owed him again, and despite all that was unresolved between them, he wanted her and she wanted him too.

He moved his lips to her cheeks, tasting the brine in her tears, then moved to her neck to lay kisses there. She arched her head back, the familiar feeling of want pooling between her legs. Then he broke apart to lift her shirt up from her hem, his fingers trailing across her skin, ghosting across her abdomen, a silent tribute to the loss they both had to suffer.

He lowered her back to the floor again, before covering her with opened mouthed kisses, as though he was trying to wipe clean the slate, every inch of her skin burned with the intensity of his lips. He kissed her over and over until he felt the anger, the sadness and confusion replaced with nothing but hunger and desire.

She timidly reached out for his belt buckle, as though hesitant to bring this forward without his consent even though he could see her desire for her outlined through the tight fabric of his jeans. He nodded, then returned to kissing her lips with renewed determination. A groan escaped his lips when she pulled him out, his length heavy and thick in her hands as she gave him a few strokes.

He didn't bother to undress her further, pushing her panties aside, he swiped a few fingers at her entrance to ascertain that she was ready for him, a soft mewl escaping her lips as he did so. Then, he pushed into her, a whine of pain and pleasure ringing in his ears as he tried to steady his motions. She was tight, tighter than he had remembered and even though he wanted nothing more than to push his entire length into her, he eased in slowly, feeling her wet velvet heat encompassing him whole.

She gasped when he bottomed out, her lips caught between her teeth, her brows furrowed with the amount of pressure and fullness she felt inside her. His hands sought out her breasts, while he started rocking into her at a steady pace. She opened her eyes to look at him, lips slightly parted, his eyes darker than she had known. Moving her hands, she caressed his face, and with each thrust into her, the apologies rolled from her tongue in the form of moans and gasps.

She was dripping over him. She knew, but she couldn't find it in her to feel embarrassed. She'd been opened up in front of him, raw and exposed. He'd saw right through her even through the layers of walls she'd put up. And she was tired of holding them up now. She'd been honest and he'd been forgiving. The least she could do was to give herself to him at her realest. So she pushed back against his thrusts, igniting a pleased growl from him as he swiped his thumb to collect the juices and brought it up to her swollen nub.

Elizabeth moaned as pleasure coursed through her body. She focussed on the clinking of his belt buckle and the rhythm of his breaths to keep herself from coming apart on him too fast too quick. She wanted this to last. Wanted to give him the pleasure he deserved before taking hers. But Rio seemed to know that too. Lowering his body so they met, chest to chest, he increased the pace of his thumb on her clit while slowing down his thrusts.

"Come on, Mami. Wanna feel you cum on my cock." His words sent goosebumps down her neck, the delicious feeling of lust spreading out through her chest and making their way lower. She whimpered in response, before bucking her hips upwards, asking for more. He grinned against her neck as he sped up, the squelching sounds of her wetness encouraging him.

She clamped her thighs around him, her heels digging into his back as she stiffened up, her muscles contracting in preparation for that tip off the edge. He pulled out till only his tip was in her, before pushing back in again, powerful thrusts that drove him closer to the edge as well. She was here, Elizabeth. He held on to her tighter as the thought of losing her rose to his mind again, a desperation clawing it's way to the surface as he pounded into her mercilessly, needing to feel her clenching around him, needing her to remind him that she was still here.

Then she let out a wail as her body shook and shuddered. She gripped around his cock with the intensity of her orgasm as he felt a flood of her juices coat his cock and balls, she was here with him, in this moment, alive. It was enough to send him over the edge, his cock swelled in her and his body throbbed along with his impending orgasm. With a pained grown, he emptied himself into her, ropes of his seed coating her inside, filling her as he continued to thrust, prolonging his pleasure.

He lay down beside her after, the cool tiled floor a sharp contrast against the heat of his skin. Unwilling to pull out of her, he held her close as he felt their combined juices leak out and coat his thighs. Her back to his chest, he missed the blue of her eyes, but it was better this way he guessed. The words that he was going to say hung too heavy between them both.

"You scared me."

If she wasn't listening, she would have missed it entirely. His voice barely audible, whispered into her hair. She looked for words to say, but found none befitting for the situation. Instead, she rolled towards him, pulling his softening cock out from her process, eliciting a soft moan from him.

Resting her palm against his chest, she opened her mouth, preparing for an apology before swallowing it back. _When you say sorry too many times, it loses it's meaning,_ she'd told Danny once. So instead, she kissed him. An apology still, but delivered in a different way.

"Don't do that shit ever again. Ok?" _I can't lose you_.

She'd never heard him this uncertain, never heard him beg. But here it was anyway. Nodding, she pressed her face into his chest.

"I promise."


End file.
